


Everything

by newsiees



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, Fluff, i was able to sneak in sprace and for that i am proud, literally a life story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsiees/pseuds/newsiees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the strike, newsies have their whole lives ahead of them.<br/>This is the story of Albert, his best friend, and how they became each other's everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a really big fan of Albert and so I decided to record the little bits of adventure my mind sends him on with my little made-up character, whom I've basically based on myself.  
> I hope you enjoy!!!  
> 

He was everything.

I remember when I first saw him. It was October of the last year of the century.

It was a normal Tuesday for the both of us- him selling newspapers and me on my way to the factory. I was sitting on a stack of empty apple crates waiting until the nearby church's bells struck seven, so I could begin my walk to the factory for my seven-thirty-until-forever shift. I noticed a lean figure rocking back and forth on their feet next to where I was sitting so cautiously looked up.

He smiled.

Even with only the left side of his mouth lifted in a grin, he was enchanting.

"Hi."

His voice was strong and captivating.

He couldn't be much older than my sixteen years and he was inviting.

Nonetheless, I shifted off of my crates and stepped closer to the brick wall of a nearby building.

"I'm sorry, am I in your way?" He swung his head to the right and then back centre, a casual signal, smiling.

"Nah. Care for a pape?"

I felt a strange, sudden urge to buy a paper from him or, more accurately, buy the whole bundle of them to ensure he had a meal tonight. Unfortunately, a teenaged factory girl with a sick mama could not buy out the shining boy's pile, so I dug in my apron pocket and held out a coin, sitting back on the wooden boxes.

The smile on his face grew three times its previous size.

He took off his hat, tipping it in gratitude, before accepting my payment and handing me a paper. I blushed at his polite actions, forcing myself to avoid his enticing hazel eyes.

I had my paper and he had his money. Even so, he was still standing in front of me, kicking a small pebble across the sidewalk, and I was praying to God he wouldn’t leave.

“Mind if I sit down?” he inquired charismatically, although his subtle shaking gave him away.

I shook my head quickly, trying to dim my glowing smile, although he didn’t seem to mind.

“So who are you?” I looked at him, eyes wide with nerves. People rarely bothered to talk to me, seeming the least bit interested when they did.

“I’m sorry, who are you, _miss_?”

He was different.

"Grace." It was quick and (unfortunately) obviously nervous, but I said it with a genuine smile I didn't even mean to wear.

"Well, hullo Grace. Albert," he said cheerfully, extending his hand for me to shake.

I took it unconsciously, as if it was as second-nature as taking a breath, and immediately felt the sensation of being on fire. No, not _on_  fire, that wasn’t it. It was the kind of bright flame that you were drawn to on cold, winter nights. The kind of blaze that you stayed close to for the purpose of comfort and warmth.

It finally registered that I was still gripping his hand like I was hanging off a cliff.

I pulled away quickly, smoothing my skirt in the awkward air. In my haze, I hadn't even noticed he had been holding just as tight.

He was fire.

* * *

 

Within the next year or so, this sort of meeting became a daily happening.

Every morning at seven a.m., Albert would come and offer me a newspaper. (In reality, whether he knew it or not, it felt like he was  _really_ giving me the world.)

I would pay for one, after some protest from him, and then he’d sit with me.

He was good company.

His sarcastically encouraging demeanor made him easy to talk to, after the first few days of cleared-throats and weak conversation, and he soon came to know me better than anyone else.

Albert knew all about how my mother lost her job after coughing blood at work, and in turn, I knew how he had loved his family and had earned all his money for them until they had stopped contacting him.

I knew that his biggest dream was to be someone and he knew that all I wanted was to have a happy future, or at least a future at all.

He knew my favorite food was apples and I knew how much he enjoyed the color orange.

I joked about him only saying that because that was the color of his hair. He didn't meet my eye and muttered that it was instead because of mine.

I tucked the therefore mentioned fiery locks behind my ear and blushed down to my toes.

He was charming.

* * *

 

"You should meet Elmer, he'll make you feel like a prima ballerina."

I laughed, accepting his hand to pull me from the ground where I had fallen.

"I'd love to, he seems very entertaining," I said, smiling while I steadied myself back on the apple crates.

He met my copper eyes and grinned.

"Hey, how about that? The boys'd love you."

He loved his friends. They were his family now. And he wanted to share them with me.

"Yeah?"

"They already do, I'm pretty sure."

He cracked his knuckles and put his hands on the back of the crate, leaning on them. Maybe he didn't notice the sides of our hands were touching (or maybe he just wasn't as affected as I was, but either way he didn't move when I shivered.)

"...They do?" He turned his smile towards me and moved his hand closer to- _on top of!_ \- my own.

"You think I go back to the house and forget all about this? Not a chance."

He knew how to make me smile, that's for sure.

"It would be my pleasure to meet the boys."

"Men, Gracie. We're men."

He was wonderful. 

* * *

The next morning Albert came bounding over to our crates, a smile engulfing his entire face.

After I bought my customary newspaper from the handsome redhead, he sat down and turned to face me, nonchalantly grabbing one of my hands in both of his.

He was warm.

“What time do you get off today?”

“Five-thirty.”

“Ok, you’re going to meet the guys tonight. I’ll meet you here a little before six and we’ll walk over together, ‘lright?”

I smiled and my heart continued at its unusually quick pace that it had acquired when his dry hands met my worn ones.

"I look forward to it," I confirmed, unconsciously giving his hand a quick squeeze before standing.

He smiled up to his ears and I've never been happier.

He was promising. 

* * *

Albert stuck his head in the lodging house's door, looking around before gesturing for me to enter.

I stepped in timidly, brushing my skirt before looking up at the sight before me.

It was messy, although that was to be expected by a group of teenaged boys all living together with extremely little adult supervision.

I immediately saw a dozen grinning faces, dirty and thin, but lively and real.

They were suddenly close to us, arms extended and hats tipping, the room full of greetings and snarky remarks.

“Quit yapping, shut up for a second,” Albert called, smiling exquisitely. “Everyone, this is Grace. Grace, this is everyone.”

I laughed (because how could I not?) and, after exchanging pleasantries with more boys than I could count, found myself greeting a dark boy with a huge smile and dirt along his cheekbone.

"Henry. It’s nice to finally meet you," he said, shaking my hand like it was his life mission.

We eventually made it to an enjoyable conversation about the beauty of the buildings in this city and an old story of Albert the first time he saw the Statue of Liberty.

"His eyes got so big and he was asking all these questions about how she got into restaurants and used the bathroom-"

"Henry, are you serious?"

We both turned to see a smirking Albert standing behind the two of us.

"I had to have been eleven years old then, I'm seventeen now," he declared defensively.

 I smiled and raised my eyebrows at him, remembering how just days ago he had told me how beautiful he thought the copper statue was.

"Oh, be quiet, you two," he murmured, trying to scowl over his smile. "It's getting late, Grace, I'm gonna walk you home."

I followed him to the door as we waved to the boys in the room.

"You don't have to walk me home," I said, stopping him as he continued to follow me after we had closed the front door of the lodging house.

"Yeah, I do. It's dark and I don't want you roaming the city streets all alone looking like that," he said calmly, shoving his hands in his pockets as we began our walk the few blocks to my momma and I's apartment.

I was glad for darkness right then as I looked down at my plain, old, dirty dress, my cheeks lighting up like the Fourth of July fireworks. I changed the subject and started talking to him about his friends, his enthusiasm delightful.

Much too soon, we were standing outside my dilapidated apartment, hidden with an ugly, grey door.

We smiled at each other awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure about the proper etiquette for someone dropping off his best friend at her apartment. Eventually, I grabbed the doorknob and stuck my key in the lock, turning back to him as I slowly opened the entrance.

He suddenly pulled his hands out of his pockets and grabbed my closest wrist, pulling me towards him. I closed my eyes as he put his other hand on my back. I felt him lean in and press his ear into my cheekbone.

Keeping his face thrillingly close to mine, he whispered, "Thank you for coming tonight. It means a lot."

After kissing my cheek slowly and carefully, he pulled away.

I heard him walking back down the stairs and opened my eyes just in time to see his lively smile and affectionate eyes.

"How was your day, Grace?"

"Oh, Mother, he was _shining!_ "

* * *

I had no idea what time it was.

It had to have been near noon, judging by the light coming through the windows. I was missing work and my boss would definitely not be happy.

But here I was, eighteen years old, curled up in the middle of the room I had spent the last three years paying for with little help, alone except for the dead body of my mother.

My dreadful thoughts were interrupted by a pounded on the door and a heavenly familiar voice calling my name.

"Gracie, are you alright? Can I come in?"

I took a shaky breath and called out to him that the door was unlocked. I heard his footsteps, slow and careful, walking towards me. I knew he was looking around, comprehending the scene before me.

In between my uneven breaths, I felt Albert sit down on the floor beside me and wrap his arms around me, holding me real close.

I'm positive that is when I cried for the first time that day.

We sat together, him holding me and me leaning into his chest to try to capture more of the comfort he was enriching me with.

I'm not sure how long we were curled together that day. I'm not sure I cared. He didn't seem to care either, mouth on my hair and words in my ears.

I didn't know what to feel at that moment, wet with tears and shaking in my skin. But I did know what was important and what was the reason I could even bring myself to come to terms with my emotions.

He was there.

* * *

 It couldn’t have been a month or two later when he approached me for the first time in three years without newspapers.

He was staring at the sidewalk as he walked towards our crates, hands as deep in his pockets as they could go.

Eventually he slowly raised his head so his eyes could meet mine. The natural smile that crept across his face could not hide the hard darkness of his eyes.

"Hey, Albert, where's your bundle?" I said, more cheerily than usual, but I knew I had to be.

He shrugged and didn't sit down.

He was moody.

"Don't got 'em."

"Oh," I breathed, optimism threatening to dwindle. "Hey, you're hair looks great today."

His hair was a mess.

He looked up, rolling his eyes heavily, but letting a sarcastic smile slip onto his face. I laughed and we sat silently together for a few minutes.

"You gotta get going, Grace. Can I meet you here later?" He wasn't smiling and he didn't seem sad. He just seemed uneasy.

"Yeah, of course, I'll be here. Five-forty-five?"

"Five-forty-five." I stood and began my walk, clumsy hands running over my skirt in their foreign emptiness, so used to holding today's news.

I looked back at my Albert, in all his beautiful, redhead glory.

There was something off today.

He was fragile. 

* * *

After my shift, I bolted to our crates, almost knocking over my confused machine partner.

When I got to the vacant apple containers, I found Albert sprawled out upon them all, cap over his face and chest rising & falling steadily.

I smiled to myself and sat on the steps of the nearby building, the farmer's market at which the apples were from.

Afterwards, I began running my hands through his unruly locks, settling in a relaxing rhythm that made the risen man sigh.

"Gracie?"

"Albert?"

"I'm too old."

He didn't have to say anything else to make me realize that my best friend was unemployed.

I didn't stop brushing his hair and he didn't ask me to.

"I have something for you." He sat up, causing my hand to drop, and dug into his pocket, retrieving a decent sized parcel.

It looked to me like something was placed in the center of a pillowcase with the excess fabric tied. He soon informed me that's exactly what it was.

"I've been saving these, to give to you later...which is now."

I carefully took the gift from him and, after almost getting used to the heavy weight, started to pull on the tie.

"No, no. Not here. I don't want them to be stolen."

I raised my eyebrow at the suddenly excited, freckled face.

He grinned and grabbed my hand, taking the heavy package from my hurting hands, and began dragging me to my apartment. Once safely inside, he pulled me onto the floor and sat with his legs crossed, eagerly pushing the bundle towards me. I raised an eyebrow and laughed at him, leaning in as I undid the frayed twine.

Letting the fabric fall aside, I was greeted with the sight of lots and lots of nickels.

"Albert....?"

"It isn't all of them. I didn't think of it at first and then when I did I couldn't always save them..." he trailed off, uneasiness swimming throughout his enthusiasm.

I stared at the coins, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

This was almost every nickel I've ever given him in exchange for _The World_ in the last three years. There had to have been at least 50 dollars here.

I didn't think before I launched myself at Albert, knocking him over as I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.

We laughed together for a few minutes before settling out of our 'compromising position,' as he called it.

"Albert?" I questioned, turning onto my side so I could face him.

"Yeah?" He followed my lead and turned to face me as well, absentmindedly taking my hand.

"How do you know when you're in love with someone?"

His smile never flickered as he closed his eyes.

"I think it's when somebody is your everything."

He was right.

He was everything. 

* * *

It's early on a Sunday morning, the New York City light shining through the tenement window.

I roll from my back to my side, curling into my husband's bare side.

From here, I can see his watch on the nightstand. Neither of us have to work on this lovely day of the week, me cleaning an aristocrat's mansion and him at an architectural job I'll never know how he got. Better yet, we still have at least an hour before the girls wake up.

I decide to use my time to admire the way Albert smiles in his sleep. There was no question of why I had fallen in love with him eleven years ago.

He is enchanting.

"Why you staring at me?"

His unconscious smile grows as he stretches his arms above his head, laughing slightly. His arm eventually stills back around me, using his other arm to find my hand.

He is inviting.

I laugh and put my head on his shoulder. Albert responds by bringing his free up to brush my cheek with my fingers.

I didn't flinch or shy away because it felt familiar; it didn't feel the way my boss's hand felt on my cheek when I didn't reply right away.

He is different.

The intimate contact causes me to relax, both visibly and mentally. It was a comforting sensation that I was used to, although would never grow sick of it. It raises my body heat and warms me like nothing else.

He is fire.

"How are you today, Grace?"

He is good company.

"I'm _wonderful_ , how are you?"

"With a view like this? Never better."

I roll my eyes at his ridiculously habitual comment.

He is charming.

"No, really. How are you?"

He turns to face the ceiling, smiling at the chipped, cream paint.

"I was thinking of taking the girls to Coney today."

"They'd really love that. They love spending time with their father."

Albert tugs me closer, practically pulling me on top of him, but I appreciate it.

He is warm.

"They do, don't they?" he utters, the amazement in his copper eyes warming my heart. He really loves his daughters. If I had said that outloud, he would have lovingly corrected me with an insistent and loving 'our daughters.'

He is wonderful.

"They've had such great lives so far, ya know? I feel like we might be doing things right, for once. Who knew we'd be someone's?"

"We could only dream."

"Yeah, of being more than scandalous, unwed teenagers living togetha'. Sorry about putting ya in that position, by the way."

I roll my eyes, biting my lip at the all-too-familiar apology. He knew I was going to let his scrawny, freckly, homeless self live with me all those years ago when he was no longer able to sell newspapers.

"It was worth it in the end, right?"

Albert looks down at me with a stunned expression, eyes still sparkling.

"The end? Hell, it ain't near the end, sweetheart."

He is promising.

I grin for the hundredth time that morning and he reciprocates my action of happiness by bringing his hand down to my hip bone, rubbing affectionate circles on my skin. His face beams as he gazes upon me for a few seconds before turning to get out of bed.

He is shining.

He pulls on some pants before turning to ask me when I thought the best time to head to the amusement park was.

"I'm not sure. If you go down the hall and use the telephone to call Spot and Race, I'm sure they'll know."

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe they'll meet the girls and I down there with the twins, too."

I nod and sit up, starting to run my fingers through my unruly sleep hair.

"You sure you don't need me to come?"

He scoffs and begins pulling his new leather belt through the loops of his trousers.

"I know how to take care of my girls, backwards and forwards. You know that more than anyone."

He knew from experience I would blush, and his hypothesis was proven correct as my flustered face bloomed like roses.

He is there.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

He sighs, buckling his belt, as we both hear a drawer slam shut in the other bedroom.

"I swear, if that kid cries about not being able to afford every single thing there-"

I roll my eyes, laughing as I interrupt, "She's your girl, that's for sure. Do you ever listen to yourself talk?"

He grumbles as he searches for a clean shirt.

He is moody.

But it's okay, I decided a long time ago. It's part of why I love him.

I get myself up, pulling on my nightdress as he began straightening out his tie.

"You have fun today, okay Albert?"

"I will, don't worry," he smiles, fixing his messy hair in my mother's old mirror.

I watch him for a while until he decides he was presentable and looks at me, taking a deep breath.

"You love me, Grace?"

"I love you, Albert," I reassure him, giving him an encouraging smile that I know he is grateful for.

He is fragile.

He walks over to me slowly and reaches to hold my waist when he's close enough.

The kiss is meaningful, as they always are. Our lips connect in a way that soothes my whole body and causes him to shiver down to his toes. I smile against his mouth (because how could I not?) and he responds the exact same way. It feels so honest, and he holds me so well.

He is right. 

He is everything.


End file.
